


A Little Bit of Tenderness

by 401



Series: Fixing Winter [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Body Image, Fluff, M/M, Massage, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rehabilitation, Self-Harm, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky can be gentle with Steve but always neglects himself. How can he care for a body that has been treated like a weapon for so long? Steve helps Bucky to respect his own skin with a little bit of tenderness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bit of Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> You know how much I love feedback people

Steve winced as he sunk into the bathtub. The hot water was uncomfortable against the plethora of scratches and grazed scattered over his skin and it excited the knots in his muscles as he flinched away from the burn. Combat training with SHIELD was always tough. Tony Stark was allowed on the grounds of ‘fairness’ to spar with him in that yellow and red monstrosity, and Sam Wilson had made a vow that he would ‘wipe out Cap’s punk ass’ at least once this week. Sam had no such luck despite his efforts, but that suit gave him a run, or rather a jump, for his money every time.

Steve hissed through his teeth as his shoulders cramped awkwardly. There was a knock on the bathroom door. Bucky.

“It’s open, Buck,” Steve called, eyes shut with his head back against the porcelain.

Bucky came in, wearing one of Steve’s old t-shirts and a pair of sweats, slung low at his hips. Steve smiled at him, eyes still closed.

“You’ve been in here a while,” Bucky pointed out, sitting on the closed toilet seat next to Steve, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Steve guessed that he had. At least half an hour, most of which spent stretching.

“Tryna’ get these knots out,” Steve groaned, shifting his weight, the water sloshing around him in the too-small bathtub, “Stark’s a devil for sparring.”

Bucky nodded vacantly, busy taking in Steve’s body. He was glossy with moisture, little clusters of soap bubbles near his hips and his shoulders. The heat had made his skin rosy, but the patches that were not covered by steamy bathwater had become covered in goose-bumps. His legs were too long for the tub so he’d propped them up on the taps, his ankles crossed.

“What?” Steve chuckled, suddenly aware of Bucky’s blushing gaze. He knew exactly what, but he wanted him to say it.

“You look good, s’all.” Bucky admitted, ducking his eyes and going redder.

Steve smiled and offered Bucky a wet soapy hand. He took it, holding in his metal one, tracing veins with the titanium fingers, watching how his blood reacted to the cool pressure.

He was doing a good job learning how to be gentle. He could stroke Steve’s forehead without leaving little red marks and hold a soda can without it popping. He could tie up his hair in one of those bastard flimsy elastics without it snapping and sailing across the room. He could not shave yet though, Steve would not let him out of caution. Bucky did not mind. He enjoyed leaning his head back against Steve’s hand, following orders of what direction to tilt his chin and feeling the scrape of blades and the gentle authority of the Captain’s fingers. Holding Steve’s hand like this made him think.

“Lean forward, Steve,” Bucky instructed.

Steve obeyed but looked to Bucky for some explanation. Bucky dipped his metal hand into the bathwater to warm and lubricate it before placing it on Steve’s broad, strong back.

“Stay still for me, okay?” Steve nodded.

Bucky started to rotate the heel of his metal hand, kneading the dense muscle and aching flesh with mechanical ease. The skin where he was working started to flush but Steve was showing no signs of pain so he continued. He homed in on one spot. It was a little bruised but Bucky could feel that the flesh there was firmer and tenser than its surroundings.

“Good?” Bucky asked, looking down slightly to peek at Steve’s face.

“Mm, magical,” Steve mumbled, blissed out under the metallic pressure of his boyfriend’s hands.

The gentle whirring of the plates in Bucky’s shoulders was the only thing keeping Steve’s head in the room as the pleasure of release and pressure drugged him. Every now and then, Bucky would ask him where he wanted him, it what he was doing was good or bad. Sometimes, he would give Steve a slight nudge to he could move onto another part of his torso. Steve had his head resting on Bucky’s flesh shoulder, making a soapy wet patch when Buck’s hands fell still.

“Why’d you stop?” Steve asked, “That was amazing.”

Bucky smiled, a proper smile, still shy and cautious but good enough to make Steve’s stomach quiver.

“I ran out of places to go,” Bucky explained, “I don’t want to bruise you any.”

Steve rolled his eyes amiably and pulled Bucky’s face forward in wet hands, kissing his forehead.

“If only you were that careful with yourself,” Steve mumbled into the skin, looking down at the patchwork of scratches and bruises on Bucky’s neck and flesh arm.

Steve had sat up on many nights, just to be there to guide Bucky’s angry sleeping hands away from actions that would hurt. The soldier would pinch himself, dig the fingertips of that metal arm into any of his own exposed skin until he bled or the pain woke him up. He would never touch Steve, just himself.

Bucky frowned at the attention being bought to his habit. The truth was, when he thought he was learning to be gentle, he never took into account that he had to be gentle to himself too.

“They’ll heal,” Bucky shrugged with mock nonchalance.

Steve lifted Bucky’s flesh arm up to his lips and kissed his wrist gently, then took the metal one and did the same. Bucky looked away when he did this.

Steve stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist before going into the bedroom, changing into fresh underwear an undershirt and climbing into bed. He was comfortably loose after the massage, but still uncomfortable with the fact that Bucky could manage to still hurt himself even with his newfound tenderness. Even the was Bucky moved was haphazard, paying little mind to how what he did and how he placed his body could hurt himself. He would burn himself on the radiator by forgetting not to stand too close or bite his nails to the quick. It upset Steve.

“Come here, Buck,” Steve patted the space in the bed.

Bucky crossed the room slowly and lay down next to Steve, looking up at the ceiling.

Steve ghosted his hand over Bucky’s chest and settled in the crook of his neck, brushing a loose lock of hair behind his ear. Propping himself up on his elbow, he continued the soft touches all over Bucky, some sensations making the soldier shiver and some made him push Steve’s hands away completely. ‘Soft’ was not a concept Bucky was used to yet. His chest started to rise and fall a little faster.

“What’re you doing, Stevie?” Bucky whispered, close to panic.

“What you deserve,” Steve replied, continuing.

Bucky sighed, letting Steve kiss and stroke. He enjoyed the moments when, briefly, Steve’s lips would graze against the scar that separated metal from flesh at his shoulder or when Steve would lift his metal arm so confidently, with no fear at all of Bucky’s strength. It made him feel human and acceptable.

“Good?” Steve asked.

Bucky hummed in confirmation.

“I like it when you…” Bucky stopped, unable to say but gestured at the metal arm instead.

“You want me to touch your arm?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded.

Steve kissed more firmly over that thick pink line of scarring. He could feel with his lips that the bone in that part of his shoulder had been replaced with titanium too; the texture was more resilient. The thought of the agony that must have caused made Steve want to gag. Bucky place his metal hand on the back of Steve’s head, ruffling his hair as the blonde pressed repetitive kissed into the sensitive skin.

 _You shouldn’t like this so much_ , he thought to himself. But he did, he really fucking did because it was changing how he felt about his body. His body that has been pulled apart and put back together and poked and pricked and injected. For the first time he was gaining some ownership and control.

For the first time in years, Bucky Barnes felt human.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What to do next, eh?


End file.
